24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Isolation
It’s been dawn for days now
Day breaking the horizon while Night fades
Until the end of time
I’m alone out here, in my cabin warm
It’s just how I like it
And in a week or three or more
(I lost the track of time)
Time will return for all intents to normal
While I still rest alone inside
Only leaving to abide
By the terms of our agreement
Checking on the time
And keeping the world turning.
I keep thinking earbuds. Don’t forget the earbuds.
And the little book light and the novel.
Seventeen issue of The New Yorker.
My favorite soft pillow.
I keep thinking binoculars. A really good bird book.
Chocolate bars from Switzerland. Ginger candy.
Our deluxe edition of Scrabble.
Photos of our dogs and cat.
I keep wondering, will there be wine on board?
Good food? A library?
A big room full of puzzles?
A TV with Netflix?
Yes, I want to see the Northern Lights,
I want to see old churches, fjords and the deep ocean.
I want to see whales, eagles, and reindeer.
I just need the little comforts of home
to keep me tethered safely on board.
I remember snow
Crunching under my boots
Forming it carefully into a snowball,
mittens become wet on my skin
as I threw it as hard as I could.
I remember building snow forts
With little tunnels
and seats too cold to sit on.
I remember sledding,
waxing the runners
speeding expertly
into my grandparents’ yard.
I remember Ice skating
trying to keep my ankles straight
while I attempted a figure 8
on the frozen tennis court.
I remember snowmen
built in the front yard, rolling the pieces
around the yard, over and over
making trails across the lawn.
I remember snow,
brutally pounding my skin in a blizzard
when my car broke down.
I remember shoveling walks laden heavy and deep
Filling back up as fast as I could empty them
I remember sliding through streetlights
Driving into snowbanks out of control
I remember snow,
glistening in sunlight
The softness of the snowfall in the silence of night
The reflection of Christmas Lights
I never miss the cold, the brutality
I miss the laughter
I miss the joy.
I remember snow in all its forms
The sound of crunching under my boots.
Amidst vast universe
The hut is resided
With great pride
Without any fear.
Surroundings not in favor
Still the hut is there
With a new hope
For showing way of life
The great pleasure!
“Father Time” is NOT:
the gentleman I thought he was,
as I timeless as I thought,
kind to 30-year-olds, or 50-year-olds, or 70-year-olds.
He was kind to 40-year-olds!
40 was my best year in human terms,
and that was many years ago, truth be told.
But, who tells the truth about age, anyway!!
My conclusion is
“Father Time” is an evil, man-made idol
To steal from thinking minds,
Taking away their ability
to perceive the beauty of
the timelessness we really live in.
If a believer is given
Eternal Life through
believing what
the creator of time said,
the only measure of time is
timelessness.
He, God, the Father who
Does not slide down
a tower in a ball of lights,
dressed in white robes with
a staff and a long white beard,
sent His Son to free us,
Free us from Time so we
Can live forever in
His realm.
Therefore, and hereafter,
numbers don’t matter to anyone but people.
That makes ME timeless!!
DogSpeak #8 Toying
joy, happiness
tails metronome
in constant motion
loofah latex llamas
gnawsome footballs
busy bones
stuffed squirrel
squeaky rubber duck
fuzzy blue ball
romping, frolicking
darting, dashing
cavorting elation
purple penguin
fluffy yellow flower
squishy parakeet
monkey jumping tope
nylabone chewy ring
neon green alligator
rolling, bouncing
tossing, twisting
tugging great fun
every color tennis balls
small, medium, gigantua
throw, chase, retrieve
grunting piggy
squawking rubber chicken
crinkly rhino
grappling, chasing
racing, jumping
ear to ear smiles
jingle jangle ball bell
wiggly wobbly giggly ball
slippers, shoes – oopsie!
huggy teddy bear
pink softy elephanty
knotted ropey pull toy
noisy water bottle
red-nosed reindeer
snoring floppy bear
soaring, catching
running, leaping
barking merriment
so many toys
so little time
– play while you can!
~ J R Turek
When I’m five or six we used to run and play,
Just running and running and some with mud clay.
Our “Nanay”(Mother) call us back to eat,
Our familiar food, Banana Cue in a Stick.
We laugh and talk and joke around,
Good old days, a familiar sound.
It taste so sweet like happy hour,
No bitterness or sour.
A happy childhood lullaby,
After finishing five Banana cue,
I guess, I don’t find much clues,
How happy I am with Banana cues.
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.
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Writer: M.E. Flores
Hour09, Text Prompt09
“Banana Cue is a famous snack food in the philippines, it was fried Banana sweetened with sugar often times being served in a stick like Barbecue, and I attached pictures for visual.”
“A ver mija,” he said as his work-worn hands gently mixed
flour, sugar, salt, shortening, baking powder, milk
and a hint of vanilla
into a simple dough,
he called it “pan loco” and laughed.
We had no language but this,
and the smile that would rise
on each of our faces as
we sat across the Formica table
dropping crumbs as we ate.
We may not agree on this –
Nothing beats the aroma
Of cereal with a sprinkling
Of cream emitting vapour
Let alone the taste
It’s like chocolate bar
Melting on your tongue
Or your favourite ice cream
Gliding down your throat
That’s how much I love cereals
Similac, Cerelac, Nutrend –
This half-empty pack of Golden Morn
In my cupboard reminds me of them,
Of growing up when we used to
Eat them raw and Mama would warn us
To desist but the taste would draw my
siblings and I to do what Mama had forbidden
So we ate one day and left the evidence
All over our lips and the floor
And I ran to Mama once she returned
And reported that we didn’t eat raw Nutrend.
I cannot now say whether it was guilt that pushed me or childhood innocence
But I know the memory of her spanking never wanes.
As bells that chime
Only a little while
On the face of time
We are but a smile
Precious youth comes and goes
Precious time slips by
Seeming like no one knows
Where it went or why
Jobs take much of our lives
Leaving little time to do
What some may not realize
Is most important to you
Taking time to stop
To really listen well
You’ll find that what you thought
Is truly what you feel
As the years set in
Time passes on
Before you see it end
The hurried life is gone
So keep the time you need
And take the time to listen
To every word you heed
In every special person
More precious than a flower
Than all the words that ryhme
Is the true grace and power
In every moment of precious time